


I think I love you better now

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, M/M, because they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Harry’s around doesn’t mean he’s going to hear from him or get to see him at all. </p><p>Nick doesn’t even expect it, it’s been so long since he’s got anything more than a perfunctory text letting Nick know where on the earth Harry is, so when his phone remains silent through the next few days Nick’s not disappointed nor surprised; he’s pretty much come to expect that by now.</p><p> </p><p>or, Harry gets home from tour and see Nick for his birthday</p>
            </blockquote>





	I think I love you better now

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be porn but wound up all feelings because it is HARRY AND NICK AND I LOVE THEM AND MISS THEM.
> 
> thanks to MRSRONWEASLEY for looking this over and suggesting how to end it even if she didn't take my oh so subtle hints and just write the ending for me herself. SIGH. BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME. thank you again <3
> 
> any remaining mistakes are my own!

*

 

Harry gets back to London on a Monday. Nick knows that not because anyone told him personally, but because he can read the headlines of The Sun just as easily as anyone else in the world, thanks ever so much. 

There are shots of all of them – Harry and the rest of his band – trudging through Heathrow in the early hours of the morning. They’ve all got beanies pulled down low over their heads and every one of their limbs is limp with fatigue, trudging their luggage weakly behind them. 

Nick doesn’t know how they do it; he’s knackered just looking at them and he’s not just been on a six month jaunt around the world. 

The article goes on to say how they’re back in London for over a month mostly for press for the release of the film, and Nick has a quick flare of excited anticipation before he remembers and tamps it down, telling himself that just because Harry’s around doesn’t mean he’s going to hear from him or get to see him at all. 

Nick doesn’t even expect it, it’s been so long since he’s got anything more than a perfunctory text letting Nick know where on the earth Harry is, so when his phone remains silent through the next few days Nick’s not disappointed nor surprised; he’s pretty much come to expect that by now.

*

“So the One Direction film is coming out soon, Finchy,” Nick says. He taps the pages in front of him, staring at the film’s release dates and press info and wonders how Harry and the rest of them are handling it all.

Matt nods from the other side of the desk. “That it is.”

“I’m not going to go see it you know.” Nick tries for casual and flippant. From the way Matt is watching him with raised eyebrows he thinks he’s missing it by a few billion metres. “Nope. Not for me. I’m boycotting the film, that I am.”

“Well, it is your birthday today,” Matt drawls. “It’s your party and you don’t have to go to a film in a month if you don’t want to and all that.”

“It _is_ my birthday, Matt Fincham, that is true.” Nick beams. There’s literally nothing in the world that can keep Nick cross when it’s his actual birthday. That’s a widely known fact. “And for my birthday would you like me to tell you _why_ I’m boycotting the One Direction film?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “I’d love nothing more.”

“I’m boycotting the film because do you know how many scenes there are of me in it, Matt Fincham? Do you have any idea?” Nick doesn’t want for Matt to say anything before continuing with, “None. Not _one_ scene of myself in that film so I’ve sworn off seeing it. I mean, how is that even possible? One Direction would be nothing without us here at Radio One! That Harry Styles for example, he’d still be selling muffins in a bakery in Cheshire if it’d not been for us, yeah?”

“Surely,” Matt says dryly. He glances at his mobile and then looks up when Ian taps him on the shoulder, leaning in for Ian to whisper into his ear. Nick prattles on for a few seconds longer when Matt signals that there’s a call on the line that he wants Nick to answer. Nick does, and when he hears Harry’s voice on the other end, he nearly falls out of his chair and brains himself on the station floor. 

“What’s this I hear you’re boycotting my film?” Harry says, cheeky sounding as ever, and Nick glares at Finchy, pinches the bridge of his nose, shoving his glasses halfway up his face, and says, “Hiya , Harry, it’s good to hear from you.”

*

Harry stays on the line long enough to plug his film, and the new album, and the next tour, and even does a round of Stop the Showbot before ringing off. Nick handles it all perfectly – he’s a professional, after all – and never once does he ask how Harry’s actually _doing_ or where he’s been or why hasn’t he phoned Nick once in the past six months. They’ve texted, of course, and followed each other on Twitter, but as for Harry’s actual voice Nick’s not heard it since the spring. 

They all say their goodbyes, Matt and Ian and Fiona shouting out to Harry to take care and call back in soon, and just as long as it takes Nick to queue up the next set of links his mobile buzzes in his pocket.

_A bit late in the conversation but HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Xx_

Nick smiles despite himself. Five minutes on the phone with Harry and it’s like no time has passed at all, as if Nick hasn’t missed him every single day that he’s been gone. 

_Thankssss_

_So I have this email from Aimee about dinner tonight is that still happening?_

Nick sighs and lays his head down on the desk. His birthday dinner. Of course Aimee invited Harry. When she asked Nick who he wanted there, he’d said just the usual people, but Aimee knows him well enough to know that that still means Harry even if it’s been months since they’ve seen him. Aimee knows it will probably _always_ mean Harry, she’s just too good of a friend to bring it up.

 _It is, yes_ , Nick texts when he finally manages to sit up again. _Are you coming?? Should I alert the media??_

_Please don’t > : ( _

Nick laughs, clapping a hand over his mouth when Matt glares at him. 

_All right better go finish the show. Thanks for calling in today, popstar, it was good hearing from you_

_Anytime nick. I’ve missed you. See you tonight happy birthday again xxx_

Nick clicks his mobile off and shoves it in his pocket. He can feel himself smiling dumbly and he stares down at the desk, needlessly shuffling the papers in his hands to keep from looking up to where he can feel Matt staring at him.

“Everything all right?”

Nick glances up, finds Matt smirking at him knowingly and Nick rolls his eyes. “Everything’s fine. Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“And you won’t,” Nick warns. “It’s my—"

“Birthday, so I’ve heard,” Matt drones. “As long as you’re all right, though.”

Nick feels his face go flushed and hot. He looks away again and bites his lip to hide his smile. “I’m actually pretty sure I am.”

*  
Nick gets to La Bodega Negra just a few minutes past eight, and half of the party is already drinking wine at the bar. He hugs and kisses everyone hello and is chatting with Henry when a familiar buzzing in the crowd starts up. That can only mean one thing. 

Harry’s arrived. 

Nick leans back against the bar and sips his drink, watching Harry smile and kiss and flirt his way through the crowd. Gillian gets him in a headlock and Pixie kisses him for so long Nick’s going to have to have a word with her the next time he gets her alone, but then Harry’s hugging Aimee and the both of them are clinging to each other tightly and whispering in the other one’s ear and it hits Nick hard in the chest, punching the breath out of him and making all the air seem to go out of the room. 

Nick’s not the only one who’s missed Harry. Sometimes he forgets that.

By the time Aimee drags him over, Harry’s hair’s already gone a bit flat, the quiff he’s been sporting lately drooping and hanging low on one side. Harry’s eyes are sparkling though, the green brighter than Nick remembers, and he smiles as Aimee shoves him forward, tripping over his awkward feet and obscenely long legs. 

“Nick, hey.”

Nick puts his drink down and smiles. He can see Aimee grinning like mad behind Harry, but then Harry’s reaching out, curling his arms around Nick and dragging him into a hug and Nick doesn’t see anything anymore, just closes his eyes and buries his face in Harry’s hair, breathing in the familiar smell of his shampoo and aftershave and soap and says, “Hiya, popstar, fancy meeting you here.”

Harry’s laugh is loud and sharp, shocking almost in its familiarity, and it breaks them apart, Harry’s fingers lingering around the curve of Nick’s wrist until the last possible second when Ian and Matt drag Harry away to say hello to someone or other, leaving Nick there grinning, watching Harry flit around the room, his personality and smile brighter than the sun, his eyes always coming back and finding Nick.

*

It’s possible that Nick drinks a bit too much, wine and champagne flowing, tiny plates of food appearing and disappearing on the long table all night long. Harry takes the seat next to him and no one says anything about it. No one thinks it strange or makes a comment, he’s just Nick and it’s just Harry and this is where he sits, it’s where he belongs and no matter how long it’s been since he’s been there it’s as if the seat's been waiting.

When Harry’s hand finds Nick’s knee under the table, Nick doesn’t think that’s strange at all either. He looks down at his plate and bites his lip and glances at Harry from the corner of his eye. Harry’s looking back at him hesitantly, a small crinkle of worry creasing his brow, and he whispers, “All right?” so quietly Nick almost doesn’t hear him.

Nick smiles and nods, his heart pounding hard and fast behind his ribs, stomach fluttering with nerves. Harry leaves his hand there and doesn’t let go.

*

Nick’s home for half an hour when there’s a quiet knocking at the door. He knows before he answers it that it’s Harry, and part of him is surprised but half of him kind of expected it, expected him to come. Harry had looked at him a bit too long, let his gaze linger quietly when Nick hugged him goodbye, telling him how great it was to see him, how he was happy Harry was home and that he hoped to see him more before he left again on tour. 

Nick answers the door in a ratty t-shirt and a pair of his oldest sleep trousers. He’s got his glasses on and his hair is probably a mess. Harry looks as good as he did at the restaurant, still in a pressed black button up and a pair of dark skinny jeans, his hair wild and face flushed and gorgeous. 

He’s holding a box. It’s long and flat, only a few inches high, no paper or ribbons around it, just closed at the sides with small strips of tape. Harry looks down at the box then up at Nick and nods past Nick into the flat. 

“Hey. Can I come in?”

“Sure. Right. Obviously,” Nick stammers. He closes the door behind Harry and wanders into the kitchen, banging the kettle around to fill it with water for tea. He feels Harry come up behind him; expects Harry to say something but he’s quiet instead. When Nick turns around after flicking on the hob, Harry shoves the box into Nick’s hands, hasty and awkward. 

“It’s not really a birthday present,” Harry says quickly. He twists his hands together and chews on his bottom lip. Nick wants to kiss him. The idea of it hits Nick so quickly he nearly rocks back on his heels from the force. “It’s just for you.”

“It’s just for me, yeah?” Nick turns the box over in his hands. He hears something slide around inside, feels the weight of the contents shift from one edge to the other. “Good to know you’re not giving me a present that’s just for someone else.”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly. “Dick.”

It makes Nick smile, the way he can still make Harry laugh, get Harry frustrated. It makes him forget how much he’s missed Harry when he’s stood right here, anxiously frowning at Nick as he breaks the tape holding the box closed, pulling the lid off and dropping it on the counter behind him. 

It takes a moment for Nick to process what he’s looking at, and when he does he realizes it’s a box of postcards. Hundreds of postcards. Most have pictures, some have words or inscriptions. There are landscapes and statues and pictures of people. The ones on top are shiny, the edges still sharp, but the further in he digs the more battered they become, the paper going thick and soft, the fronts with scratches or creases from the longer they’ve sat in the box. 

“There’s one a day, for the most part,” Harry says quietly. Nick looks up. He’s got a newer card in his hand from Los Angeles, a scribble of an anchor that he figures is a new tattoo hidden somewhere on Harry’s body. “Sometimes I would forget to pick one up so I’d do two the next day, but it’s pretty much every city from the tour.”

Nick opens his mouth then closes it. He flips through a few more cards: there are notes on some of them about Nick’s show ( _heard the girls today!_ says the one from Ohio when Nick had Little Mix on), things about the shows they’d done ( _never seen an arena this sick_ reads the card from Verona). 

There’s a bunch in a row from when Nick got Puppy and the Radio 1 weekend and just – everything. There’s a card for literally every single thing that’s happened since Nick last saw Harry, a piece of cardboard documenting every single thing that Nick’s missed, and no matter how different the messages all are, they all end the same. _miss you. cant wait to see you. I’ll be home soon._

Nick’s eyes burn. He puts the cards back and finds the lid. He looks up when he closes the box, finds Harry watching him intently, his chest rising and falling, cheeks and throat flushed pink. 

“Sorry, I know it’s stupid, but I just—“

“It’s not stupid,” Nick says quietly. He looks up and catches Harry’s gaze, holds it when he says, “I love it.” 

Harry’s eyes widen. “You do?”

“Harry, it’s the most…” Nick flails helplessly. He doesn’t even know how to explain it. How he thought Harry had forgot about him, only to be given proof Harry thought of him every single day that he’s been gone. Nick has no idea what to do with that. He’s got no clue what any of it means. “I love it.”

“I wanted to give you some space,” Harry says, his words coming quicker than Nick’s used to hearing. He sounds like he’s trying to get them all out before he loses his nerve or before Nick stops him. As if Nick ever would. “I figured when I was leaving it was as good a time as any to let you do what you needed to do for the show and the radio and that it would be easier if I wasn’t around so I stayed away. I didn’t want to, though. I never wanted to.” He looks down at the floor and shakes his head, his voice breaking as he adds, “You have to know that.” 

Nick swallows past the lump in his throat and nods. He puts the box on the counter, fingers trailing over the edge one last time before pulling his hand away. “I do know that. I mean, I know that now, I guess.”

“I missed you,” Harry says. He lifts his head and his chin wobbles the slightest bit. “I didn’t want to send them through the post and risk someone seeing them and making a big deal out of it all, but I just. I _missed_ you. I missed talking to you and seeing you and—“

“Harry—“

“No, Nick, I —“ Harry breaks off, sounding frustrated, then seems to make a quick decision, shaking his head and taking two steps closer. He bridges the space between them and fists his hands in the bottom of Nick’s shirt, pulling him in, and kisses him hot and fierce on the mouth. 

Nick is surprised for a split second, his hands flapping around before he settles them against Harry’s back and Harry makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat, raw and wanting. “Nick, come on. Kiss me back,” Harry grits out and Nick can’t not; he can’t ever tell Harry no.

Harry kisses like he does everything: brave and strong and with every inch of his body involved. His hands slide up under Nick’s shirt, his leg fits between Nick’s thighs. He tilts his head and slides his tongue into Nick’s mouth and kisses him slow, their tongues slipping together, every brain cell in Nick’s head short circuiting with how good it is, how perfect they fit. He wants to shout _finally_ and _I missed you too_. Instead he just kisses Harry back, touches Harry’s face and kisses the corner of his mouth and leans their foreheads together when they’re done, both of them flushed and smiling at each other. 

“So how long are you home for this time, popstar?” 

Harry laughs quietly as he shakes his head. He kisses Nick hard on the mouth and pulls back, threading their fingers together and leading Nick out of the kitchen. 

“A little over a month and then away again but then I’ll be back.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles gently. “I’ll always come back, you know.”

And it’s too much, suddenly. Too much all at once, too many changes. Nick needs time to adjust to normal everyday things, and the idea of Harry missing him for months and being back in his life and apparently _leading Nick into his bedroom_ is far from normal.

Nick stops walking and it pulls Harry up short. Harry stops, turning to face Nick and frowning at whatever look Nick’s currently got on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Nick hedges. “It’s just. This is big, Harry. Are you really ready for all of this?” He blows out an anxious breath, watches as Harry’s expression turns soft and fond. “Are you sure? Really _sure_ sure, I mean.”

“Nick.” Harry’s voice catches and he clears his throat, stepping closer and leaning in to kiss Nick gently. “I went out every day for the past six months and wrote you a postcard telling you everything I’d seen from every place I’d been to because I missed you. I _saved them in a box_ and then came here on your birthday to give them to you so you would know.” He stares at Nick with clear, bright eyes. “I love you. I thought that would be fairly clear by now. I’m ready for anything. I want _everything_.”

Nick swallows hard. He’s got a lump in his throat and his heart is banging crazily behind his ribs and he’s bricking it to be honest, but he’s got Harry in front of him and Harry’s always been brave enough for the both of them. Maybe it’s time Nick tried being brave too.

“Everything, yeah?” Nick asks and Harry nods, smiles sweetly and pulls Nick’s hand, leading him down the hall. “Well all right then, Styles. I think I can do that.”

 

-end-


End file.
